Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
- LYRA -
“Good luck,” Devin whispers before opening the door to the dining room.
I give him a small grin and sweep inside.
It’s different from how it was configured last time I had a private meal with Cyrus.
Rather than a long rectangular table, it’s a small round one.
A red tablecloth spills onto the marbled floor, and Cyrus is waiting quietly in the dim shimmer of tealights and tapered candles scattered across the tabletop. His eyes slide to me.
Dropping my gaze to the floor, I curtsy before him. He rises from his chair and hurries to pull mine out. I mumble a nervous thank you as I take a seat, and he pushes it in before returning to his own.
There’s a generous stretch of shadow beyond the spill of candlelight surrounding our table. Like we’re a star speckled in a midnight sky.
Before me is a matching set of a golden-lidded plate, cutlery, chalice, and a cloth napkin. He takes my glass and fills it from a pitcher, then fills his own. I glance around us, searching for guards or servers in wait, but find no one.
“I thought it might be nice to have this dinner alone,” he says softly.
Alone? I watch him lift his glass and take a few sips, a timid grin stretching across my lips.
Cyrus reaches across and lifts the lid off my plate, releasing a cloud of steam. The scent of rosemary-roasted duck floods my senses.
“Please,” Cyrus motions to my plate, “dig in.”
Smiling, I dip my head and begin to slice into the meat. Once I’ve taken two bites, I look up at him. He’s tracing his middle finger around the foot of his glass again in a distant thought.
Swallowing, I start, “I’m quite pleased you invited me here tonight.”
He smiles. “As am I. It gives me much joy to know you haven’t refused any of my invitations yet.”
“Yet?” I chuckle, then take another bite.
“You aren’t required to accept them, by any means.”
“I have a hard time believing anyone here of sound mind would refuse,” I say before taking another drink of water.
He grins. “You might be surprised.”
I shrug. “Their loss then, I suppose.”
He smiles wider, eyes falling to his lap. “Always taking the extra step to flatter me.”
“Do the other women not?”
Tapping his finger against his chalice, he whispers, “Perhaps it's more so that I take your words a little closer to the heart. The more time that goes on, the more…I can’t deny my draw to you.”
I drop my fork on my plate in a clatter that’s far too loud for this intimate setting. Blushing, I apologize under my breath and grab it before meeting his watchful eyes.
“Part of the reason I called upon you tonight was because of that fact. But I also wanted to personally ask if you’re feeling better?”
“As good as ever,” I respond with a smile and take another sip from the chalice. I wonder if he knows of my and Marcella’s blood oath. It’ll be something I need to ask her once I see her next. We didn’t get much more time to chat in the gardens before Aelia joined us. “Thank you for asking.”
“So you and Marcella…” He grabs his chalice and swirls the liquid in it as he looks at me. “You’re closer. You’ve become friends?”
“I think so,” I murmur. “We’ve developed some sort of trust between us.”
“I see. I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been told friendships and trust are the most important things you can have in life.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Been told? As in, you haven’t experienced either yourself?”
“Oh, of course I have. As King, there are many I must put my trust in.”
“And friendships?” I ask.
“I mean, there’s Devin, and…” he trails off, eyes softening as he grows quiet.
My heart sinks at the hesitant, looming sadness in his eyes as he looks at his chalice. All before he whisks it away with a shake of his head, takes a quick drink, and clears his throat.
“My position doesn’t tend to lend itself to many close relationships like that, I’m afraid,” he admits quietly.
“And why not?” I take a bite of food.
“Because…” he sighs. “Because I run the risk of catering to that person’s needs. And above all else, I have to keep the well-being of this kingdom at the forefront of my focus.”
I squint, trying to dissect what he isn’t saying. “You aren’t…able to keep yourself separate enough to let someone in? Because you’re afraid they might…what?”
His eyes find mine. “Betray me. Which might be catastrophic for all my subjects, and not just myself. I can afford my own heart to be broken hundreds of times over. But the one thing I can’t accept is this kingdom falling into the wrong hands.”
I frown, unable to keep myself from pitying the man before me. Always solemn and quiet, outside of the small smiles he shares with me. “Then you run the risk of a lonely life.”
He dips his head. “I find no argument in what you say.”
“You deserve happiness…” I shake my head and gesture out to the closed doors. “Isn’t that the point of this entire competition? To find someone you might be able to trust and spend your life with?”
“It feels dangerous to admit that I’m hopeful but…” He shrugs and drops his gaze to his chalice. “I have to play things safe.”
Taking one more bite, I edge my chair away from the table and stand. His eyebrows lift once I walk around the table to him.
“Relationships are never safe. They’re a leap of faith. Into the unknown, putting your trust into someone else and hoping they don’t shatter it. It can be said about friendships and…” I exhale, snatching his untouched napkin out from underneath his cutlery. “Other…relations.”
I stand behind his chair and whip the napkin out of its fold. “Will you trust me?”
He turns in his chair to look up and back at me. “I suppose it depends on to what extent?”
One side of my mouth lifts into a grin as I refold the napkin. “I won’t hurt you, and I have no ill intention against you.”
He mirrors my grin and flicks his attention back and forth between my face and the napkin. “Very well then…I’ll try my best?”
“Good. Face forward.” I loop the napkin in front of him. He holds still while I secure it over his eyes and barely get enough fabric to tie it behind his head. Once it’s snug, I grab his gloved hand and help him out of the chair.
“Stay here until I call you,” I whisper.
As soon as he’s standing on his own, I quickly grab everything I can off the table.
Forks, knives, spoons, my napkin, even the lid to my plate.
I down the water in my chalice and his, then grab those, too.
Working as fast as I can in the silence, I scatter them on the marble tiles in a path leading to me.
Until I lean a hip into a column nearest the inset wall with paintings across the room.
I can’t help a small smile at seeing the King of the Dragon Lands there waiting for my command. Blindfolded by his own napkin.
“Alright,” I call out from across the room.
“I want you to listen to my voice, my command. You’ll have to trust that I’ll steer you here to me safely.
For along your path are obstacles. Some of which might be unpleasant,” I wince at the knives on the ground, “if you do step on them. So, you’ll have to trust me more than you trust yourself. ”
He turns his head to me, locating me by voice. Immediately, his hand raises out in front of him. “What happens if I accidentally knock one of these candles over?”
I open my mouth to suggest the water pitcher on the table, only to realize it’s empty. “You won’t need to worry about it if you follow my instructions. So, I want you to take…six paces to your left in a small arc, to avoid your chair. Take it as slow as you need to.”
He chuckles, then begins to take slow step after step around the chair. Arms held out in front of him. Once he’s made it, a flutter of hope rises in my chest.
“Great, now turn around three times.”
“Three?” he laughs.
“Yes, three. Now get to turning!”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing as he turns three times over. Then stops, partly turned away from me. His body swaying back and forth as he works to find his balance.
“Alright, now I want you to angle your shoulders slowly toward my voice and…stop! Great. Now you’ll take four steps forward.”
He does as commanded. Hesitant and dizzy at first. Pausing for my next instruction. His left boot is a few inches away from his first obstacle—my napkin.
“We lose if you touch anything, so don’t take a step more until I’ve said so. I want you to slide to the right like you’re about to lead someone off into a dance—okay, wait! That’s perfect. Now, two steps forward. Okay, one more.”
He leans forward, catching himself before he can completely collapse.
“You’re doing lovely. Now three steps to your right—”
He sends one of the chalices tipping and rolling away, and I cover my mouth as I giggle. “Sorry, that was my mistake. I meant my right, but it should have been your left.”
I coach him through the rest of the obstacles with ease. The closer he gets, the more confident his steps. Until he’s passed the last obstacle and he stops, waiting for more commands two paces away from me.
Smiling wide, I clap. “See? You have no problem trusting. It’s only that you’re—”
He takes the last two paces to me until I’m forced to step back with a gasp at how quickly he’s advanced. My back bumps up against the marble column, and he’s close enough that his torso brushes mine. I tilt my head up to look at him. As if I might be able to see what’s behind the crimson napkin.
“You’re right,” his voice is soft, a gentle smile on his lips as he leans his head down toward me. “I have a hard time trusting because I’m scared.”
I swallow against the heat creeping to my face.
The vulnerability from his lips. Each breath in our lungs silently scrapes our clothing together.
Clearing my throat, I reach up for the blindfold.
As my fingers slip into the space between his temples and the cloth, his hands hesitantly grab my wrists.